Stupid Safari just died and deleted my almost finished blog. Katelyn, only
you could make me attempt this again. But it's crazy long. So reading it should hopefully get you through your entire recovery.
I’m sure everyone (except my poor Georgia friends) got a taste of the recent snowfall. JC hasn’t seen that much legal white powder in well over twelve years, and I was appropriately excited. After all, what’re a few firey (snowbank-y) deaths compared to the hopes of a white Christamas? When the electricity unexpectedly died twenty minutes before a two-hour Dollhouse special, Jay had a mild panic attack; but I chose to succumb to my rarely seen spontaneous urge and drag my siblings into the snow.
How could I resist? The snow lay in wait, flurries continued drifting softly to the sparkling ground, and the lights from the mall reflected off the snow, turning the sky a stunning milky gold. It was Christmas break magic, there was no denying it.
“Besides,” I couldn’t help but add (several hundred times), “We have an Aga.”
Moriah abandoned us for a party, so there are no pictures. It’s hard to frolick with a camera! This will have to do.
I love my friends. Also, I kept hearing Marie-Claire yell, “Narnia!” in some distant, snow-capped memory.
Moving on, here’s a little rundown of the evening.
Annalee’s boots (which fit my feet—scary) have no traction. I fell about 37 times, beginning spectacularly with a full on, feet-in-the-air, my-butt-hurts slide on my first step off the porch.
The snowball fight turned into a battle of sorts. I was tackled 9ish times, and I’m still thanking my wonderful siblings that Neal was everyone’s favorite target.
A flashlight blinded me no less than 27 times. This was not as bad as Jay’s eye injury (snowball to the face) or Neal’s almost crushed glasses (which were, for some reason, in the pocket of his parka). Annalee got away unscathed.
Our snowman was -32 degrees awesome. And, as any misshapen, crumbling snowman (with one boob) is expected to, it ended in assisted suicide. When one(s) fail(s), one(s) should have a hella good time destroying the evidence. With one(s)’(s) boots. (Okay, now I’m confused).
Also, surges in power lines look remarkably like lighting. It’s super cool and kinda scary, like the northern lights in your backyard. Everyone should see it happen at some point in their lives. Bonus points for a snowy backdrop.
Anyway, we trumped back to a still-dark house, acted smug about our gas stove as we drank mucho hot chocolate, and blindly stumbled to our beds, fully expecting the power to return in the night. The joke, it seems, was on us.
There was no power in the morning. Also, we were snowed/iced in. Didn’t stop Mom from making Dad take us to Pal’s for breakfast. But when we got back, we were pretty much stuck.
I wandered about the house. I pestered my family. I took several naps in unconventional places.
I found myself facing the ultimate conundrum: the Divine Comedy or Harry Potter? Annalee forced the solution by refusing to start The Sorcerer’s Stone because she had homework. And so, Sibling Pressure Story Time was born.
Then sibling conserve-heat-by-sharing-beds was born. It made me miss group naps.
Then our cousins arrived, decided it was too cold, and got a hotel. Thanks guys, really. But it worked out for the better, because we finally broke down and visited their room after two days without showers.
Don’t we look good?
We decided to alleviate our boredom by finishing our Christmas shopping. Wouldn’t you know it?
The power goes out. Good one, mall.
So we headed home amidst the swarm of heretofore-unseen traffic. Where did all the cars come from? We don’t have that many people in Johnson City. I still haven’t figured it out.
And I continued my napping streak. (Ask Moriah why she sepia-ed that picture).
This is nothing; several of us took turns napping on the Aga. It was cozy (but did burn Neal’s butt).
Two days without power: ten thirty pm. Mom, Dad and Neal have gone to the Biltmore so Neal can sing Ava Maria. Jay, Alura, Haley, Moriah and I are hanging out by the Aga, per usual. We hear the rumble of trucks. Could it be? Yes! The Johnson City Power Board! We ran outside in our pjs and blankets (we’re not ashamed!) and pestered the workers.
“Do you folks live on Ridgewood?”
“We live on Cloudland.”
“You’re on the corner, right? We aren’t getting Cloudland up til tomorrow.” A tree had shattered a pole and the lines were scattered across the street like the snakes in Indiana Jones. “But y’all’s line probably runs from Ridgewood. You may have power in a few hours.”
“Really?”
“Of course! Lemme check.” We followed him around the house like hopeful puppies. “Nope, y’all are on Cloudland. Sorry.”
And that was that. We went back to the kitchen, played Apples to Apples by candlelight, and made adult jokes over our little siblings’ heads. Sometimes, you do what you have to.
We weren’t so hopeful the next day. Our non-hopes weren’t disappointed. All our food went bad. There was candle wax everywhere. Still nothing was accomplished, aside from a trip to the Laundromat. We got power back around six pm, 70 hours after it went out. We were leaving in twelve hours. Good one, first three days home.
Still, we had our electricity back. There was much rejoicing.
So then we caravanned to Delaware for Christmas. It’s a nine hour drive. We got there in thirteen hours. Good one, DC traffic.
That week I learned that my love for naps in strange places is genetic. We found Uncle David sleeping: on the kitchen floor, on the living room floor, sandwiched between the sofa and coffee table (on the floor) and leaning against the step on the dining room floor. Moriah has photographic evidence (they’re awesome) but I couldn’t get ahold of it. Ah well. I give anyone reading permission to Facebook stalk my sister.
Before we left we hit the outlets. Factory stores+50% off everything=almost making up for the previous week and a half. Thank you, Rehoboth Beach. Also, Grotto Pizza isn’t half bad either. (Seriously, it’s delicious. If anyone ever goes to Delaware, eat it. Your life will be changed).
So we made it home in eleven hours (due to potty stops for the puppy we somehow ended up with. It cried for three hours straight. Thankfully, we passed it along to my aunt a few days later).
And I’ve been a vegetable for the five days since. Although it hasn’t been a week entirely wasted. I finished Battlestar Galactica. And got caught up on Dollhouse. And dyed Moriah’s hair. And what more could I ask for, really?
If there’s one thing this break has shown me, it’s how often I say "good one." DJ and Marie, this Christmas is for you.
